


take me as i am

by Jenfly



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Emotional Constipation, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, Idiots in Love, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Love Confessions, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:40:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23817826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenfly/pseuds/Jenfly
Summary: ”It’s okay to be afraid. Love can be a scary emotion – it can hurt you in ways that leave scars so bad and deep that they will never truly heal. It can be a weakness or a strength or both at the same time. And it’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”orGeralt has a lot of feelings for his bard and he doesn't know what to do with them.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 190





	take me as i am

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this started as a small idea but then everything got a bit out of hand and this ended up much longer than I planned. Honestly, this was supposed to just smut with some feelings, and then the feelings part kind of exploded. 😄 Hope you enjoy!

It started when Geralt returned from the hunt, the effects of potions still coursing through him, making everything feel too much and not enough. His senses were flooded and it only took one glance at Jaskier to make sure it would be alright.

The next moment Geralt was standing in front of the bard, hands grabbing his neck, pulling him into a hungry kiss, swallowing all the noises that would have otherwise left from Jaskier’s mouth. It was rough, fast – armor and clothes discarded hastily to the ground as they soon stumbled upon their bedrolls, Jaskier pinned under Geralt.

Arousal hung in the air heavy, salty, and Geralt inhaled it like it was his drug while biting, scratching Jaskier’s burning skin, marking him. His sensitive ears collected every little noise from Jaskier and he let out a low, almost animal-like rumble deep from his chest, his desire blazing within him.

Every touch made him hungrier – he wanted more, needed more. And Jaskier was giving it all to him freely, his body pliant under Geralt, yielding to Witcher’s roughness, asking him to take him.

And Geralt took, took and took. Everything and more.

He prepared Jaskier with his oiled fingers, his movements fast and hard, just like they both wanted, needed. It never took long before Jaskier was begging, the sound of it ringing sweetly in Geralt’s ears, and when Geralt finally buried himself into Jaskier, he sunk his teeth into his shoulder.

Jaskier’s moan was a mix of pain and desire, feeding Geralt’s lust, and Geralt knew how close he was losing control. He started thrusting into Jaskier sharply, his hands gripping Jaskier’s hips tightly, fingertips digging into his skin so hard there would be bruises blooming later. 

He kept his pace hard, merciless, hunting for his release, wanting to sate the hunger deep within him. He swept his tongue over the bite marks on Jaskier’s shoulder before scraping his teeth over the skin, drawing a path up until stopping right under Jaskier’s earlobe.

Jaskier’s hands were on his back, holding onto him like his life depended on Geralt and it made the animal inside Geralt purr pleased. He loved the taste of Jaskier’s skin as he sucked a mark onto his neck, his thrusts growing forceful, more brutal as a piece of his control slipped away with each move.

His name fell from Jaskier’s lips sinfully hoarse, pleading, and Geralt tore his mouth away from the bard's neck, hoisting himself up just enough to meet Jaskier’s gaze. It was a black void against clear blue darkened by deep desire. Predator against its prey. 

But there was no fear. No instinct to escape. Only trust. 

_You won’t hurt me._

_Take me._

And as Jaskier’s fingers threaded into Geralt’s hair, pushing him down into a messy kiss, Geralt let the last piece of his control crumble down. Jaskier came apart under him after a few thrusts and Geralt followed soon, breaking the kiss and sinking his teeth into Jaskier’s bottom lip. The taste of blood seeped onto his tongue, mixing with the pleasure that painted the darkness of his world with white.

They rode out their highs and eventually, Geralt collapsed next to Jaskier. Jaskier turned to him, smiling sated and his hand cupped the side of Geralt’s face, fingertips slowly starting to trace the black lines around his eyes.

Something tucked at Geralt’s heartstrings and his breath hitched. The urgency, the burning need was gone, replaced by another feeling.

The feeling that Geralt couldn’t allow himself to dwell on for too long.

  


// * * * //

  
It kept happening, usually after Geralt had come back from a hunt but at some point, it started to happen before, too. There was always that one look and then, in the next moment, they were tangled together like starving men craving for food. No words were spoken between them after as they laid on their bedrolls in their camp or on the bed in an inn.

And after a night’s sleep, came the morning – neither brought up what had happened and they had just continued, as usual, doing their tasks, eating and drinking before heading back on to a road. They were like nothing had changed, and at first, it didn’t bother Geralt, but the longer it went on, the tighter the knots within him grew.

He was confused, couldn’t understand why Jaskier allowed it all to happen over and over again. Why did he allow Geralt to paint his body with new marks when even the old ones hadn’t faded yet? Why did the bard trust him so blindly? Why did he have that soft look on his face after every time they had fallen to the throes of pleasure?

Why did Geralt allow it to happen?

(Because he was too weak. Too weak to deny the feeling buried deep under the stony walls, built up by the years of training.)

Because he was a monster. A monster who craved for blood. A monster who took what it wanted when it was served on a plate.

”Geralt?”

Jaskier’s voice grounded him and Geralt met those bright blue eyes, now looking at him with a slight worry as they stood on the small path. It felt as if someone had poked Geralt’s heart with needles – an unpleasant reminder that he didn’t deserve the worry, didn’t deserve Jaskier.

”Did you hear something?” Jaskier asked, eyeing their surroundings while approaching Geralt. The tiniest smell of fear reached Geralt’s nostrils as Jaskier stopped in front of him, placing a hand on his arm. He froze and for a moment he just stared at Jaskier, studied the look in his eyes, searching for – he wasn’t sure what, just something. Anything that could put his the storm inside him at ease.

But he didn’t find it, so he put himself together and gave his answer rather gruffly.

”No.”

Jaskier seemed to be happy with that as he sighed, a small, relieved smile tucking at his lips.

”Oh, that’s good.”

Geralt hummed, tightening his hold on Roach’s reins and shook off Jaskier’s hand before walking past him. 

”You’ve been awfully quiet and brooding today,” Jaskier pointed out as he followed close behind Geralt. ”You’re barely even given your usual grunts or hums as an answer to my ramblings. Something’s clearly troubling you. What is it, Geralt? You can talk to me.”

”Nothing,” Geralt huffed out, hoping that his tone would tell the bard he didn’t want to have any conversations now. 

He really wasn’t ready to have that one particular conversation. To his luck, Jaskier understood the hint and didn’t ask questions anymore.

Geralt let out a small breath but it did nothing to ease the weight that had settled upon his heart.

  


// * * * //

  
Geralt had been recovering from an injury and poisoning for a few days and Jaskier had barely left his side during that time. He had taken care of Geralt’s wounds, the nasty, big one that now marred his chest and was still healing, and the smaller cuts as well as the poisoning. He was starting to feel himself again as the poison had left from his body fully and he could actually be on his right mind.

He could have made a bet that he had said something he hadn’t meant to say while the poison was coursing through him but since Jaskier was acting as he always was, whatever he had said couldn’t have been that bad.

With a grunt he hoisted himself up, leaning against the headboard of the bed. 

”Oi, be careful,” Jaskier said, his eyes boring into Geralt’s with a warning. 

”I’m fine,” Geralt stated and Jaskier waved his hands dramatically.

”Yes, I know, the witcher healing… Forgive me being worried,” the bard snapped, the look in his eyes gaining a hint of hurt and it made Geralt’s heart sting.

_Fuck._

Geralt sighed, letting his gaze fall down and only then he realized that Jaskier’s other hand was bandaged. 

”You’re hurt,” he stated, eyes wide.

”Ah, yeah, it’s nothing. Just a cut, it will heal,” Jaskier said as he settled himself on the chair beside the bed. ”You still had your sword when I found you and the poison… You didn’t know what you were doing.”

”Jask...” 

It came out barely as a whisper and Geralt reached out to take Jaskier’s bandaged hand in his, holding it gently. He could hear Jaskier’s breath hitch and his eyes snapped right up, meeting Jaskier’s. He opened his mouth but the words got stuck in his throat, burning, so he had to shake his head instead, hope that Jaskier would understand the unvoiced apology.

”Geralt, this isn’t the worst injury I’ve had. And no, don’t you dare blame yourself. I know you would never hurt me on purpose,” Jaskier spoke, his tone softening towards the end.

The words didn’t ease Geralt’s guilt much and his eyes flickered back to the bandage on Jaskier’s hand.

”But...” Geralt started, pausing as he tried to find the right words. ”I could hurt you again. What if...” He couldn’t finish the question as even the thought made his heart ache in the most painful way.

Jaskier’s deep sigh sounded almost scolding and Geralt was fairly sure it was meant to him as a warning.

”Do I smell like fear?”

Geralt frowned. ”No. You...”

”...never do,” Jaskier finished the sentence for Geralt. ”I’ve never been afraid of you and never will be.”

”Why?”

”Because I know you,” Jaskier answered, pointing then at his chest. ”Because I know what’s in there, in your heart.”

Geralt’s frown deepened, the confusion hanging upon him like a dark cloud. 

”What?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes, looking surprisingly – fond? – and Geralt just stared at him, mouth slightly open.

”You really haven’t figured it out?” 

An awkward silence settled between them and Geralt was trying to think what Jaskier could have possibly meant by his words while Jaskier obviously waited for his answer. But the more Geralt thought, the more his mind seemed to swirl and he wasn’t any closer to an answer and eventually, Jaskier had enough.

With a sigh, the bard pulled his hand away and stood up looking at Geralt with tired and maybe a bit frustrated expression.

”You should rest now,” he stated and turned, heading to the door. After opening it, he turned to face Geralt again, a small, dreamy-like smile on his lips.

”You know, maybe you should let yourself feel for once.”

And with those words, Jaskier turned and left, the door closing after him.

  


// * * * //

  
Everything went on as they had gone before Geralt had gotten injured. The pattern they had slotted themselves into, kept on repeating – the heated moments shared under the night sky, in the dim light of the campfire, or in an inn. They still didn’t talk but every time there was something hanging in the air, hovering above them like a heavy weight on a thin robe – they both could feel it but it was pulled aside as the desire swept them into the deep sea of release.

It worked until the aftermath, the world around them becoming sharper again. The weight collapsed on them, taking the small moment of peace away and highlighting the fact that they were playing with fire. They were left living in awkward silence, gazes full of stories, words neither dared to say. And when it all became too much, it was resolved by turning the back to the other.

Every time it felt like a punch to Geralt’s heart and he either fell into a restless sleep or was haunted by storming thoughts for hours. When morning dawned upon them, they woke up and everything seemed to have gone back to normal.

But everything was far from normal.

They continued to knot their ropes, a knot after another binding them together tighter yet to Geralt it felt like he was slowly driving Jaskier away. He could see how the small sparkle of hope in those blue eyes started to fade as the days went by and it hurt. Something was slipping right through his fingers and he knew he had the power to stop it.

After all, Jaskier had granted him that power weeks ago.

_Maybe you should let yourself feel for once._

Geralt knew what the words had meant. It had dawned on him right after the door had closed behind Jaskier. The bard seemed to know what lied beneath Geralt’s roughness, about the feelings that had nestled into Geralt’s heart slowly and so persistently.

And Geralt wanted, so badly, more than he had wanted anything in his life before, to allow those feelings pull him to Jaskier’s arms, open up his heart, but he as much as he hated to admit it, he was scared. Scared that if he did that, he would only get himself bruised.

But then, on the other hand, he wasn’t sure how long he could keep it all tucked inside him.

  


// * * * //

  
It was after one near-death experience when Geralt finally had had enough. He couldn't anymore just stand and listen as Jaskier was half-shouting at him, voice full of worry and frustration, and those blue eyes glistening with tears the bard hadn’t yet allowed to fall free. Everything was just so overwhelming and the only thing Geralt could do was to surge towards Jaskier, grab him and crash his lips against the bard’s to shut him up.

He swallowed Jaskier’s surprised noise and soon his arms were around Geralt, relaxing into the kiss. Geralt’s hands went to Jaskier’s neck as he deepened the kiss and for a while, there was nothing else than Jaskier, the sweet scent, the taste of him.

When they eventually parted, everything struck in and Geralt let go of Jaskier as if he had been burned, backing away eyes wide. Jaskier blinked, mouth open, and when he finally seemed to realize what had happened his expression changed into determination and he stepped into Geralt’s personal space, grabbing a fistful of Geralt’s shirt.

”Oh, no no no, you aren’t backing away now. Not after that,” he spoke through gritted teeth. ”We can’t keep doing this and not talk about it. I need to know where we stand. So, please, Geralt...”

The bard’s voice softened towards the end, the look in his eyes turning to pleading and Geralt knew that it was time to face the demon in this room. With a defeated sigh he cupped Jaskier’s face, gently, brushing his cheeks with his thumbs.

”I want you,” he said quietly.

”So I’ve figured considering the times we’ve fucked,” Jaskier stated, letting out a little laugh and loosening his hold on Geralt’s shirt, pressing his palm against Geralt’s chest.

”It’s just not… I… There’s more to it,” Geralt continued, fumbling with the words. ”I’ve never… felt so much. You… Everything’s different with you. But I’m afraid.”

”Afraid of what?” Jaskier’s voice was soft, confusion flashing in his eyes.

”That I will get hurt.”

Geralt didn’t like how vulnerable his voice sounded, the lump now pressing his throat uncomfortably. A sea of emotions flowed in Jaskier’s eyes and he couldn’t quite make anything out of them before they all merged into open fondness he had witnessed so many times before. 

”Thank you for finally using words,” Jaskier said, offering a genuine smile at Geralt, lifting then his hand up, placing it on Geralt’s cheek. ”And it’s okay to be afraid. Love can be a scary emotion – it can hurt you in ways that leaves scars so bad and deep that they will never truly heal. It can be a weakness or a strength or both at the same time. And it’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”

Geralt hummed, not knowing what to say yet as it took a while before all of Jaskier’s words sunk in. Silence fell between them and they just stood there, in their room, gazing at each other, the air around them holding this unexplainable delicateness. Slowly, the lump in Geralt’s throat faded away, the knots deep within him unraveling, freeing him from his chains. 

Jaskier’s hand slid down to his jaw, eyes flickering to his lips, and as Geralt inhaled, he was hit by the overly sweet scent which effect was almost intoxicating. He needed, wanted to be close to Jaskier, to have that scent surrounding him as long as possible. 

”How can you love me?”

”Because there’s so much to love,” Jaskier answered as if it was the simplest thing in the world – to love Geralt.

”But how can you love a– ” Geralt didn’t finish the question as the look in Jaskier’s eyes turned hurt.

”Geralt, I’ve seen the things you hunt. They are monsters, you aren’t.”

Geralt sighed, the strong scent of truth filling his nostrils. He breathed in and out, slowly, then leaning his forehead against Jaskier’s, feeling the warmth seeping into his heart. It chased away tiny pieces of his doubts, fears, and as he heard Jaskier start to hum quietly, a small smile tucked at his lips.

Geralt focused on the sound of it, let it vibrate through him, and calm him. His mind was filled with hopeful thoughts – thoughts that one might have even called dreams. Maybe he didn’t dare to take it too far yet – he was a witcher, after all, living on the dangerous path – but he took it as it was, at least for now. 

”Jask...” he then whispered, breaking the comfortable silence, pulling back so he could reach for Jaskier’s gaze. The bard’s smile was wider now, blue eyes shining bright.

”I love when you call me that.”

”Hmm.”

”Oh, so now you ran out of words?” Jaskier grinned, obviously teasing him and Geralt rolled his eyes, somehow succeeding to suppress his laughter. Then he leaned in, capturing Jaskier’s lips into a slow kiss, hoping it would convey everything he wasn’t able to put into words.

When Geralt eventually broke the kiss, Jaskier’s eyes were full of understanding.

”I get it,” he said softly, reassuring. ”You’re not there yet but you will get there.”

Geralt hummed again, his gaze momentarily lowering as he hesitated.

”Will you show me... how you love me?”

As soon as Geralt lifted his gaze back up, he nearly melted under the power of Jaskier’s expression, the love flowing freely, open and raw, in those beautiful orbs.

”Yes, of course, I will,” Jaskier’s voice was thick with emotion and then he pulled away, took Geralt’s hand, slowly leading him to the bed.

He let Jaskier undress him, to take full control of everything. He offered his body, his mind, and Jaskier took it as it was – mutated, marred with scars, doubts, and fears. Jaskier took his time worshipping him, treating him like he was the most precious thing in the world, his every praise, tiny touch leaving Geralt’s mind spinning, skin burn, yearn for more, plead for more. And layer by layer, Geralt’s walls crashed down, the colors of his world bursting into light as he slowly came undone under Jaskier.

That night Geralt finally understood what it meant to really _feel._

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, either on the comments or on tumblr, @silverofthunder. 😊


End file.
